


Love Nest

by AdamantSteve



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blowjobs, Bondage, Fluffy Porn, Handcuffs, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Phil is the one getting handcuffed FYI, secret special crappy apartment, trust fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:54:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1283473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't get much time together, but what time Clint and Phil do get is spent in the tiny one-bed apartment they share.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Nest

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by Dunicha!
> 
> NB: there is some joking reference to bedsores in this fic, but no one actually has them. Also please do not google image search bedsores. O_O I MEAN IT.
> 
> Also they use police style handcuffs rather than fancy bondage gear. 
> 
> I'd say this fic's bondage is 'off screen' Safe Sane and Consensual, in that the characters do have safewords etc but it is not discussed in the fic.

 

 

 

They really don't have time for the leisurely kind of naked making out that's currently happening; Phil's back on the Bus in a matter of hours, bringing their all too short time together to an end. There's plans for their next tryst of course - always are nowadays - but Clint's determined to wring every last drop of pleasure out of this time as he can.

 

Clint pulls away and looks down at Phil, safely trapped beneath him. He's not going anywhere like this; the world would have to go through Clint first and that's not about to happen. 

 

They don't spend much time here - Clint lives in the tower with the rest of the Avengers when Phil's away on the Bus, but what little time they do have off is spent here in their shared apartment. It's nothing impressive, just a tiny walk up with the basic essentials, but it's _theirs_ , and that's important. 

 

"What?" Phil says, looking up at Clint with a smile on his face. That's one thing about the apartment, this place where they can pretend to be regular people with regular lives, if only for hours at a time: Phil's calm here - smiling without hesitation, laughing easily at whatever it is that Clint decides to do. 

 

Clint shakes his head, grinning. “Nothing. Just happy.” 

Phil’s laughter lines deepen, and he looks as perfect as Clint’s ever seen him. He has to kiss him again, humming in satisfaction at the warmth his tongue is greeted with by Phil’s pliant mouth. 

 

Phil’s hands, a solid presence on Clint’s waist til now, leave a cool patch when they move, not so subtly feeling up Clint’s shoulders til they’re around the nape of Clint’s neck, running through his hair and holding him in place for a kiss he can make as deep as he likes. Clint takes hold of them, circling each wrist just for the catch it puts in Phil’s breath. 

 

Clint bites his lip as he pulls away enough to fumble under the edge of the mattress, still holding on to one of Phil’s wrists when he comes back with a set of handcuffs. Phil looks at him reprovingly but doesn’t pull away or protest, offering each wrist in turn as Clint cuffs him to the bar in the bedstead. 

They _really_ don’t have time for this, Clint thinks, resuming his place on top of his captive. Phil doesn’t say anything, just looks over Clint’s body as Clint looks over his - the metal around Phil’s wrists, the soft curl of Phil’s fingers around the simple bars at the top of the bed, the ease in his shoulders... That Phil unquestioningly trusts Clint with this never fails to make him stop and marvel at how remarkably lucky he is, how much he hopes never to fail that trust. 

 

“Tell me you’re gonna keep me here,” Phil requests quietly.  

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” Clint replies. He slides off to one side so he can lay beside Phil, look down his long, perfect body at the same time as trailing his fingers up and down, up and down. “Keeping you here as long as I want…” 

Phil hums happily before Clint brushes over a particularly sensitive spot on Phil’s side - ticklish and vulnerable with his hands restricted. 

“I’ll be late for work,” Phil protests weakly, smiling as he says it. 

Clint frowns and pinches the nipple closest to him, albeit softly - Phil’s body is entirely at his disposal right now, and he doesn’t want to hurt him. “Nope, not going to work. Staying here so I can ravage you forever. That’s it, Phil, you’re all mine now.”

Phil makes a token sound of dismay, though it’d take something pretty drastic to wipe the dopey smile off his face. 

Clint waves a hand. “It’s fine, you can just live on this bed. I’ll look after you.” 

Phil laughs at that, and Clint gets distracted from the patterns he’s making in Phil’s chest hair by just looking, getting caught in the gaze of affection Phil’s sending his way. 

 

“I’d get bedsores,” Phil says, even as Clint’s moving, pressing kisses to every spot that might’ve been neglected - just below Phil’s armpit, an elbow, the edge of a nipple. “You’d have to give me sponge baths.” 

Clint licks his way over that nipple, blows on the wetness he leaves just to watch it harden. He hums in agreement. He busies himself kissing Phil’s belly, its slight softness something he doesn’t get to enjoy so often. 

“I’ll kiss your bedsores,” he decides.  

Phil snorts and pulls a leg up to poke Clint in the kidneys with his heel. “C’mere.” 

 

Clint moans in protest and stays where he is, nuzzling Phil’s perfect belly. Phil pokes him again til Clint relents, grabbing Phil’s foot for a quick squeeze before making his way up to kiss Phil’s mouth. He’s warm, flushed from a mix of the cuffs and the worship of his least favourite body  part, Clint figures, and a perfect shade of pink all over his neck and chest. Clint feels affection run through him - huge and unfathomably deep. 

 

Phil wraps his legs around Clint to hold him there, doing his best to wrest control from Clint purely so that Clint will pull it back. When they have time for it, Clint’ll tie Phil to the four corners of this bed, spend hours on Phil til he’s somewhere else entirely, lit up all over with this same beautiful flush and begging for whatever else Clint might give him. They don’t have time though, and this isn’t about being anywhere but here, squeezing out every second of these minutes and savouring them. 

 

Clint reaches up unseeing to the cuffs around Phil’s wrists, hold onto him there just to feel it, try to keep this moment in his mind so he can call back on it when they’re apart again. Tomorrow, when Phil’s far away again. When Clint’s lonely and aching. 

 

He squeezes lightly, just once before letting go and reaching back to grab Phil’s legs, holding them with firm hands as he pries them apart, releasing himself from Phil’s grip. He slithers down at the same time, lips leaving a trail of half kisses as he goes, til Phil’s spread out beneath him, open and vulnerable. 

 

Phil has to know it’s coming, but he still lets out a sharp gasp of surprise when Clint swallows his dick in one swift movement. He’s not completely hard - the two of them make up for their time apart pretty vigorously, so Clint doesn’t take it personally - but he can coax Phil into hardness again easily enough. The cuffs had him halfway there, along with the rest of Clint’s ministrations. And Clint can make it good - Phil’ll come even if he declares there’s no way, no fucking way he can come again (which he always says, yet always manages to)

 

Clint closes his eyes and tries to sculpt this feeling in his mind - Phil’s cock, getting thicker in his mouth, jumping with Phil’s pulse. Clint’s hands firm on Phil’s thighs, holding him open, keeping him right where he wants him. Phil’s hands decidedly not in his hair, the metallic slide of the cuffs’ chain on the bedstead keeping them in their place as Phil moves what little he can. The little panting sounds Phil’s making as Clint sucks. 

 

If only they had the time, Clint thinks. He’d lick Phil open - take forever over it til Phil was lubed up and open just from his tongue. He’d tie Phil’s legs so he couldn’t even stretch them out straight - so he was open for whatever Clint wanted to do. Leaving Clint’s hands free to jerk Phil off at the same time, get it so he’s on the edge before Clint even sticks his dick in him. 

 

They never have time! 

 

He’d be more upset about it, but complaining about this shit is quite literally a waste of time, so he adds that to their extremely long list of things to do and concentrates on sucking Phil’s dick til he can see stars. 

 

Oh but he loves this. Loves how Phil writhes beneath him, the way his body moves against Clint’s even when he’s pinned by broad hands and tied down. Clint could do anything to Phil - anything! A fact that both frightens and exhilarates him. Phil too, by all accounts. Phil like this is as good as the hush of a circus crowd anticipating something spectacular; potential and expectation and the space for Clint to do his goddamn best. 

 

Clint lets go of Phil’s legs and rearranges them, shhing Phil’s little noise of indignance at the sudden lack of a mouth around his cock. Clint slides his hands up and down Phil’s sides as he looks on before grabbing Phil’s hips and holding him down, keeping those writhing movements for himself, cause they’re still there, just pressing into the bones of Clint’s arms instead, transferred energy that Clint wants to hoard for himself. Phil moans and squirms even before Clint has his mouth back around him, moaning louder when Clint stares him down as he moves, slowly laving his tongue over the head of Phil’s cock, pressing that down against Phil’s belly to stop it from jumping out of place.

 

“Oh, you’re so mean,” Phil groans, body straining with what little leeway he has left. 

“Hmm,” Clint agrees. “But you love it.” He pulls away to lean up and look at Phil properly. “You love being at my mercy.” 

 

Phil manages to curl a foot around to prod at Clint, though it only serves to illustrate how much at Clint’s mercy he is. Clint’s twice as strong as him, heavier and with better reflexes. He lets up though, allows Phil to thrust up towards him as they grin at one another.

 

Clint can go for hours - really get Phil messed up, but now he’s just teasing for the sake of the sounds it brings out of Phil, the press of his body against his hands. Pressing a forearm over Phil’s hips to keep him in place, Clint wraps his free hand around the base of Phil’s’ cock to hold it so he can really get to work. 

 

“Oh fuck,” Phil says, over and over again as Clint works him up. He pulls away a few times to lick and kiss at the head, looking up at Phil’s flushed face as he does so, but soon gets back to work. He eases up the pressure on Phil’s hips when Phil’s close, letting him fuck up into his mouth a half dozen times before holding him down again and finally taking him over the edge. Clint doesn’t even like the taste of come, but he takes it all, holds it in his mouth to savour it because it’s the last he’ll have for a long time, and it’s Phil’s. 

 

When he opens his eyes, Phil’s looking at him, eyes glassy and unfocused. Clint swallows, making sure Phil sees. Phil laughs and drops back onto the pillows, shaking his head. “Jesus.”

 

Clint reaches off the bed for a towel, cleaning up the spit that’s just about everywhere and the few errant traces of semen as gently as he can. He doesn’t want to over stimulate Phil. 

 

Phil is breathing steadily by the time Clint’s done, kissing his way back up Phil’s body. He’s still beautifully flushed, heart beating fast when Clint stops to listen to it. He kisses the scar and moves on, up to Phil’s yielding lips.

 

“You’re perfect,” Phil whispers when he can, when Clint pulls away far enough and for long enough that he can speak. “Love you so much.” 

 

“Love you too, boss.” 

Phil rattles the chain of his cuffs against the bar they’re locked around. “You gonna unlock me?” 

“Hmm,” Clint says, leaning away so he can get another good look at how Phil’s locked up good and safe. _His_. “In a little bit?” 

“Ok,” Phil says easily. This was Phil’s thing when it started, but Clint finds he needs it just as much sometimes. Maybe more, even. 

Phil’s looking at him like he knows what Clint’s thinking. He probably does.

 

“I said I was gonna keep you here forever, anyway,” Clint says, joking because he doesn’t know how to cope with the Big Feelings he’s edging around right now. Can’t articulate how terrifying an honour it is that Phil lets him do this, wants him to do this. That this trust is such a fragile thing yet Phil’s handed it over to Clint so easily, like it’s nothing. 

 

Phil’s legs are free to wrap around Clint’s now, trapping him. “And you were going to deal with my bedsores with kisses.”

“Is that not the medically appropriate way…?”

Phil laughs and presents a cheek for a kiss which Clint gives eagerly. 

 

“What are we going to do about that?” Phil asks, rolling his hips towards Clint at the erection he’s been ignoring. “I could suck you?”

Clint shakes his head. That’s too scene-y, pressing into Phil’s space, fucking his mouth where Phil’s not able to do much more than take it. 

“Nah. Mind if I jerk off on you?” 

“I’m going to have to shower before I leave, you know.” 

“Don’t shower,” Clint says, feeling scandalous. “Please?” 

“Clint Barton, you are incorrigible.”

“ _Please_?” 

“You want me to go to work wearing your come under my clothes? Smelling like sex and sweat? Like an illicit one night stand?”

Clint hmphs against Phil, because yes. _Yes._  

“Definitely. Like I’m your dirty little secret. And I dragged you up here to our love nest and wouldn’t let you leave.”

 

He’s already working his cock, rubbing the head against Phil’s skin because he can. Phil will have a shower before he leaves anyway, but it’s nice to pretend. A primal part of Clint wants to mark him up like an animal, stamping his ownership all over Phil so that everyone knows who he belongs to. And who belongs to him. But that’s a part of what makes Phil so wonderful - the inscrutability he exudes, the unknowable blandness that most people don’t realise hides a brilliant special agent. Even less people know about this pliant, smiling creature, all warmth and happiness and _Clint’s_. 

 

He can forgive a shower or two, though it’s still fun to pretend. 

“But people’d wonder,” Phil says, “They’d ask questions.”

“They wouldn’t need to ask questions. Everyone’d know exactly what you’d been up to.” 

 

They don’t talk for a while - too busy kissing, Clint concentrating on the touch of Phil’s lips as he rolls his hips to fuck into his fist. Phil keeps him grounded with his legs around Clint’s, and that’s all he needs, really. Even tied up, Phil’s keeping him where he needs to be. 

 

Clint comes with a drawn out moan before slumping against Phil, phasing out for a minute as he shivers with aftershocks. Phil’s ankle rubs soothingly up and down Clint’s calf, and he does as best he can with his hands locked away to get his arms near Clint’s head, a show of comfort as much as anything else. “You ok?” Phil asks softly when Clint blinks and stops rubbing his come into Phil’s skin. He laughs.

“Yeah, shit. Yeah I’m good.” 

 

He blinks again when he rolls over, smearing come between them as he opens the bedside drawer for the keys to the cuffs, unlocking one and then the other when Phil holds his hands out. There are red marks from the metal against Phil’s skin, and Clint presses kisses to them and rubs them with gentle reverence. They’re just pressure marks, so they won’t bruise or blister, and Clint feels conflicted - he likes the thought of a mark of his being on Phil, when he’s off being Agent Coulson instead of _Phil_ , but the thought of leaving more permanent marks, of hurting Phil, makes his toes curl in displeasure. 

 

Phil’s looking at him, reading his mind like usual. “Give me a lovebite,” he says, rolling his shoulders as best he can with Clint still half on top of him. His hands glide over Clint’s chest, up over his shoulders. “Somewhere covered by my underwear.” He threads his hands into Clint’s hair, kisses him. Clint loves Phil’s hands on him even if he does like to lock them away sometimes. 

 

He moves down, finding a spot between Phil’s thigh and his crotch, a sensitive area to the side of Phil’s pubic hair. He sucks a deep, purple-red bruise into his skin, stopping when he hears Phil’s sharp intake of breath. 

“Another one?” Phil says, and Clint complies, making a twin of the first on the other side. 

 

“You do me,” Clint says, putting himself on his back beside Phil. Phil takes his time now, having decided to be as lugubrious as Clint when it comes to giving his partner what he wants. He kisses down Clint’s sternum, over his belly even through the smear of come from Clint’s orgasm before making it down to Clint’s cock, which he kisses for good measure. He makes two love bites which have the perfect amount of sting to them, either side just like Clint had given Phil. 

“We match,” Clint says, pulling Phil in for more making out. He feels like they could do the whole thing again right now, maybe Phil can cuff him to the bed instead this time. 

 

But there isn’t the time, and it won’t be long before Phil will pull away in search of a shower and clean clothes, and Clint will reluctantly let him. They’ll pull the sheets off together, and Clint will remake the bed whilst Phil dresses in his suit and tie and white shirt. He’ll take their towels and dirty underwear down to the laundry room later, the penance for whichever of them is left behind. It ought to be a lonely moment, cleaning up the traces of their time together, but Clint enjoys the brief moment of mundane domesticity, a service performed for his partner like any other couple might act. 

 

He’ll clean the dishes, throw out the trash, put everything in its right place til next time, before knocking on the doorframe and turning out the light, locking the door behind him as he goes back to his ‘regular’ life.

 

But for now, naked and soft, sticky from a good time, wrapped around each other like starfish, it feels like they have all the time in the world. 

 

 


End file.
